


The scent of Mischeif

by JusticeBanana



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Cora Hale, Alive Laura Hale, Alpha Peter Hale, Good Alpha Peter, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapped Stiles, M/M, Magical Bond, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Post Hale Fire, hard of hearing Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-21 10:57:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13739418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JusticeBanana/pseuds/JusticeBanana
Summary: The night Peter bites Scott, he waits for the other boy to run into him, the one whose smell is all over the asthmatic boy, who smells like cinnamon and mischief. He waits all night knowing he was with the other boy just before Peter bit him, but he never shows. Not for years.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A short first chapter, a prologue of sorts, i will continue this as well as my other fics but for now i will start of slow since this past 6 months has been a stressful hell. But hang on tight , it will be updated!

Peter Hale pushed his way into the office, the deputies looking shocked and afraid. Good. He might have the physical strength to fight the demons of his family, but he was scared. Scared enough to involve the law enforcement in a battle they might not even win.

“You promised me a restraining order sheriff!” he roared, and the man stood quickly from his seat. He cast a worried look next to the door where a boy sat. Not older than twelve maybe thirteen.

“Peter you’ve got to understand. That sort of thing takes time. It needs to go through the proper channels.” The sheriff looked tired, sounded the same.

“Bullshit. You promised me a restraining order and you will get me one.”

“It doesn’t work that way.”

“Then why did you promise to protect us!?” he roared, and the sheriff flinched as the boy behind Peter almost fell of the couch.

“Look I tried but it didn’t work. There is nothing I can do now.” Peter was ready to break things. Go into a full fit of rage. Kate had tried to seduce him first, when he pushed her away and she never returned to try again he never thought she’d gone after a barely 15-year-old boy. And no one wanted to help him protect what little family he now had left.

“Bullshit. You didn’t try. You got payed of like everyone else who dared get to close. If she ever comes close to my nephew and niece again Sheriff you will regret it. I promise you that!” with that he rushed out of the room.

That night he packed the rest of his family up and moved to New York.

 

* * *

 

"I have to appologze, for breaking my promise, for doing what I did. It still keeps me up at night." 

"It makes no difference Sheriff, you fucked us over, we lived in fear!" 

“You have to understand Peter they threatened my son and wife! I wasn’t a good sheriff back then and I guess I’m not now either, but it was a choice between losing everything I had or turn a blind eye to your request. Today I wouldn’t have chosen like I did back then Peter.”

“I HAD LOST EVERYTHING BACK THEN” peter took a deep breath “what you were scared of would happen had already happened to me. All because some crazy ass woman wanted to fuck up for us. She murdered my whole family, and no one listened to us! NO ONE!”

“Please Peter where is my son!?”

Peter huffed and shook his head. "Thats why you called me here!?" 

"You want me to believe that you coming back the same month my kid goes missing is coincidence!?" The sheriff roared and Peter understood him, he truly did, but he felt no pity for the man. 

"You think I took your son?!” Peter was baffled. “you think I’d do that to you after having endured it myself, think I’d be petty enough to wish you that sort of pain. No. My guess would be that the Argents ran out of things to do for fun.” He left the station again, this time knowing he’d stay in Beacon Hills, after all, he had a new beta now and Hale land was about to be reclaimed.


	2. Chapter 1

Peter is just about done and ready to fall onto the sofa and sleep for around fifty or so years as he pulls the loft-door open. He can hear Isaac stumble around in the kitchen but doesn’t say anything. Instead he makes a beeline for the couch but stops dead in his tracks, all dreams of a nap in front of the tv demolished as he spots the kid lying there. Well maybe not a kid, he seems rugged and dirty, young and skinny but he has a patchwork of beard, no scratch that. Scruff on his face. Some people are just not blessed with good facial hair. He notices the scent beneath the dirt and grime and it tickles something.

“Isaac, dear, please tell me why my couch has become victim of a dirty teenage runaway.” He yells and Isaac sprint in from the kitchen. “explain.” Peter continues as he points at the young man.

“I found him in the woods, he was hurt and on his way to freezing to death. Derek told me to bring him here.”

“Of course he did. Well can he not be in your bed then, why my sofa?” he knew he was being an asshole but frankly, when was he not one, he’d had a long day. He had more important things to worry about than a youngling freezing to death on his sofa. He wanted to be sleeping on the sofa.

“Because that is a more non-threatening place. Derek thought it would be a bad idea to put him in a room.” Isaac said and looked about as lost as always.

“Well how nice of him, the altruistic son of a bitch.” He sighed and sat down into Derek’s lazyboy. It was comfortable no doubt, but it was also made with retirement homes in mind.

“I thought that it would probably be best to not make him feel caged. God knows we all have our issues.”  
“Ah, yes. We’re the marry band of misfits, the abuse victims and the one who’s scared of fire.” Peter mumbled and sighed. “What’s another one at this point. Want to make bets if he’s more like you Isaac or more like our blueballed alpha over there?”

“I think he might be an asshole like you.” Derek growled, and Peter knew from his voice that he’d stepped too far. If he could kill Kate again he would, fifty times over. At least twice for every time she touched his nephew and at least another time extra for making him shy away from finding pleasure in life, whether it be love or sex. Or just not be mopey all the time.

“Either way, he might as well stay on the sofa now, he stunk it up already.” He said and rose from the chair. “I’ll go make soup for when he wakes up.”

“Did you just grow a heart?” Isaac leered, and Peter smirked right back. Derek just shook his head but he could hint a smile.

Peter walked into the kitchen as he replied. “There is something about him that irks me. His scent. I plan to find out when he wakes up.”

 

It hits him a few hours later. The boy is sound asleep still, his temperature rising slowly from cold and frozen to stabilized and normal. The moment he looks at him more closely he sees it, the skin dotted with moles under the scruffy beard and the scent connects. This is the boy Scott was with in the woods. The boy so ingrained in Scott’s scent that Peter had waited for him to show himself so that he could bite him too. But Scott dragged himself home and Peter waited for a beta to be that never showed up. Now he knew why.

“You need to call Scott.” He said as Derek entered the room, most likely due to the rise in Peter’s heartbeat.

“What’s wrong?” he asked and looked between him and the boy.

“I think I found his long-lost friend from the woods.” The one who smelled like cinnamon and mischief.

 

* * *

 

 

As they wait for Scott to arrive, with his mother hopefully, Peter turns to Derek. “Why didn’t you take him to the hospital, he seems human enough.” He hums, and Derek just shakes his head.

“Couldn’t. He smelled human and everything pointed at him being human but there’s a mark on his chest. It wasn’t exactly constant, it kept changing, not much, but enough to notice. Like it has a beat of its own.”

“Interesting. Why didn’t you tell me right away, I feel like that’s a threat we could’ve assessed together nephew?”

“Because you would most likely take priority in finding out what the mark was, and he seems to need his rest. You’d see it when he woke up.”

“Mhmm, yes. Let’s take a look then shall we.” He said, and Derek just nodded solemnly. The man didn’t stir when he lifted the blanket from his body, he was in a pair of grey sweats and there was no shirt to be seen. Seems a bit cold for a human during winter, he couldn’t have run far. He says as much to Derek and Isaac and they just nod. Useless.

“Now this is very, very interesting.” Peter hums as he stares at the boy’s torso. He’s thin, almost malnourished. Or he could just be skinny. He had no apparent bruising or wounds except for the one black eye and a harsh bruise around the left side ribs. There is a symbol on his chest, a dull light making its way in runes across his torso. Shifting under his skin.

“Seems like our runaway has been getting in some serious trouble.” Peter hums as Derek looks distraught. “Isaac would you call Deaton too. Scott should arrive soon, and I think Deaton should be here shortly after.”

Isaac nods at him and does as he’s told. “Alright. What is it?”

“This, my merry band, is a binding. Someone somewhere has been using whatever powers he posseses for themselves. That’s a big no no between magic users.”

“Powers?” Derek asks as Isaac asks “Magic?”.

“Mm, yes. My best bet would be magic of some sort. The only question is, what kind of magic.” Peter pulls a book from his shelfs and tries to find it out. There isn’t a lot of different magic worth binding. Not all magic is harvestable, if one would try to bind say someone who possesses djinni powers they would be pretty much obliviated by the powersurge. You can bind witches, unless they are very powerful but most witches are calm and peaceful and settle for using it in their own circles, covens and usually for their own or natures gain.” Peter said and sat down again, looking at the boy trying to figure out what he was. “You can also try to bind druids, but they are rare and few in between, Deaton an exception to that rule. Other than that there are seers, shamans, the occasional spark, sorceresses, mages and empaths, but empaths aren’t actually that rare so why bother binding one when you can just find someone willing. Necromancers I guess you can try too, but you don’t even try to bind those if you want to die in peace when the time comes.” He continued. The boy stirred silently but remained asleep.

“Pretending we understood that, what would be your guess?” Isaac sighed and rubbed his temples.

“My guess would be that he’s not all that magic or we’d smell it, a lot of magic smells like ozone and fire.” Peter winced and Derek jerked where he stood. “I’d say it’s a fair fight between witch, spark and Seer. Powerful enough to attract those wanting power, but not powerful enough to fight a binding.”

“So he’s not powerful?”

“Oh he probably is, but not in the way we would say magic is powerful, he probably can’t conjure fire or dead people from the grave but he would surely be useful in the area he belongs to. A spark might not have imence power but they can still release chaos, they are driven by instinct, can bend the will of people and nature, but not alter it or conjure it. As a seer he would be able to see what the future holds, what people are planning and possibly even alter the future.”

“And if he’s a witch?” Derek asked and Peter hummed as he thought for a while.

“I think not, but if, he would be able to slightly alter reality, or nature, it is hard to say, he would sense danger and maybe see glimpses of the future but not as powerful as a seer. Impossible to know without knowing what kind of magic path he has taken.”

“So he would have needed to train?”

“Most definitely. Which is why my guess being the other two.”

“So, he can either fuck us over or fuck us over by changing the future.”

“Exactly so.” Peter agreed and closed his eyes. “wake me up if he stirs.” Peter dozes of in the lazyboy and waked to a ruckus of voices and glass smashing against hard surfaces.

The boys heart quickens and before they know it he darts into the bathroom in stunned silence Peter and Derek watch him lock himself in there.

“This might be dangerous. We should call the McCalls, especially Scott and tell them to hurry the hell up.” Peter said before he plucked up his book, they needed to figure out what the boy was.

“I’m on it!” Isaac called as he called.

“Well, Scott better come quick. I have to use the bathroom in a minute.” Peter said and Derek looks both confused and slightly annoyed. Peter can hear him think in there, his heart speeding up from time to time. Isaac had been knocking on the door and trying to tell him as gently as he could that they wouldn’t hurt him. Peter wanted to kick in the door but Derek countered with that it would scare him more than help the situation and Peter knew he was right but he had always liked quick and efficient before comforting.

Melissa McCall rushes through the doors to the loft with Peters beta behind her. Scott looks like he’s been crying as he rushes up to Isaac. He points to the door to the bathroom and Peter’s sure Scott’s gonna be the one to kick the door in.  
"Stiles!?" he yells loudly and Derek rises an eyebrow, Peter mimics the expression. What kind of name is that? “He’s scared” Scott states instead and stops to a halt in front of the door.

He looked at Peter and he sighed “Well, he was found in the woods and now he’s among strangers.” Scott looked at him as if he was being an asshole and who’s to say.

“We need to get him out of there so that I can check on him boys!” Mrs. McCall reminded them.

“He wont come out!” Isaac said, “I’ve been trying to tell him it’s fine and safe since I hung up the phone.” He looks distraught and Scott is a mirror image. Mrs. McCall shakes her head and scribbles something on a piece of paper. She doesn’t try to speak to him, which strikes Peter as slightly odd but as she scribbles he lets it go.

"Did you believe that when you could hear it in your situation?" She asked softly and Isaac looked down and shook his head. 

"No." 

She sends the note through the door, but the note comes back with a messy scribble of I don’t believe you! Did they have pens in there, Peter looks at Derek who at least had the decency to look ashamed. Peter had been trying to throw those crosswords puzzles out from the bathroom for months. They can hear him breathe and mutter. His heartbeat racing after a few seconds. Melissa tries again and sends in her hospital badge to prove it to him, but all Peter can smell is devastation and he realizes their mistake. “He thinks we are the bad guys.”

No matter if it’s compared to the ones who took him or to Santa, but he is imagining the worst because he doesn’t know them. As the others look at him in horror he clarifies, “We’re the ones in the room when he woke up, all new faces or at least faces he didn’t recognize. I don’t think he finds us particularly calming. Especially not after sending in the only id of his mother-figure?”

Melissa presses her lips together in a thin line and shakes her head. “I called his father on my way here, we can just hope he comes quicker than expected.”

He doesn’t but when he does come through the door he puts even Scott’s saddened face to shame.  
“YOU!” he calls as he barges up to Peter. His fist connects with his jaw and Peter lets it. Not like it hurt that much either way and the man obviously needed it out of his system. He panted as he watched Peter moves his jaw. “What have you done to him!? I swear I will hang you from the bridge by your balls if he is missing as much as a strand of hair!” he yells and his face is reddening to the point where Peter is actually concerned for the mans oxygen levels. Before he can start yelling again Peter stops him with a hand on his shoulder and pushes him towards the bathroom.

“Are you done? Your boy is in the bathroom and we can’t get him to come out, Derek found him in the woods earlier today. He seems fine, cold and a bit skinny, but otherwise alright.” He said, and the sheriff calmed. “Go get him out, my moisturizer is in there.” The sheriff took it as what it was, an out from the allegations and anger. Peter had moisturizer in his bedroom too, he just wanted him out period. The scent of panic where everywhere.

 

“Will he know your handwriting better than Mrs. McCalls here? He won’t listen to us when we speak.” Derek looked uncertain and the sheriff shook his head

“Well yes, I’d hope so.” He said and took the pen and paper from her.

“You’re not going to try to talk to him either?” Isaac asks and looks between the three people who knew the kid.

“Well, considering he wont hear us so no.” Melissa said and smiled faintly.

“Oh right.” Isaac looked about as red as a plum as he seemed to remember something, and Derek knitted his eyebrows together.

“He’s hard of hearing.” The sheriff clarifies, and Peter opens up his book on a completely different chapter. Seems he was wrong after all.  

 

The sheriff sends in the short note and the door klicks open after a few hard breaths and some waves of feelings. Sadness, anger and dedication mostly. If its dedication to rip their heads off for pulling his father into this or what it is Peter doesn’t know but the young man slams the door open with the metal toilet roll-stand in his hands like baseball bat. The second he sees his father it clinks to the floor.

“Dad?” it’s low and heart wrenching and Peter doesn’t like that at all. Its to emotional for him. To hard. He never got the chance to do this, to find his son alive. He was barely one at the time of the fire, he couldn't just run out of the burning building despite being human. He takes the book and sits down at the table in the kitchen, close enough to not be rude and far enough to seem polite. Derek casts him a worried look and he waves it off. 

It’s a jumbled mess of polish and English and crying and everyone else just stands there as the McCalls and the Sheriff is hugging him senseless. The sheriff checks his son over, hands on either side of his face as he twists and turns to see if he’s hurt. Stiles signs something and Peter is pretty sure that isn’t American sign language because he took the introduction course in college, so he should know.

 

By the time the boy has visibly calmed, gotten one of Isaacs sweaters to warm up and fallen right back asleep in his fathers arms, Deaton has arrived as per Peters recommendation. Scott is adamant that Stiles never ever showed or said anything about something divergent form the norm.

 

“You said he was hard of hearing?” Peter asks Scott nods. “I think he’s an empath”

“A what now?” The sheriff asks defeatedly.

“An empath if powerful enough can alter your emotions, make you feel something you wouldn’t if it wasn’t called out from you. Dangerous but also deemed “not powerful” which I think is stupid. It can create big problems. I didn’t think it was even an option, they are pretty common and frankly pretty useless and usually weak in their powers, only sensing peoples emotional state without power to change it.”

“How do we know he is one of the rare ones then? He could just be one of the um, weaker ones?”

“No, if he was one of the weaker empaths, there would be no need to bind his powers.”  Deaton chimes in and looks at Peter and smiles. So Peter was right after all. He’d called Deaton told him his new guess and the man had arrived not ten minutes later. Deaton looks at them all and explains. “It is nothing out of the ordinary with empaths to have an impaired sense. Senses strength and all that, one sense is impaired then another is heightened.”

“But you said that there were a lot of them and it wasn’t necessary to bind them?” Derek asked his uncle. Deaton is the one who answers. “Well both yes and no. It isn’t useful to bind a weaker empath, it will do you nothing, but I don’t think he is weaker. He certainly doesn’t have a binding that is weak, this took both time and effort. To use a binding like this, a regular one wouldn’t take.”  
“So you’re saying my best friend is an all powerful magician?!” Scott asks highpitched.

  
“Absolutely not, compared to conjuring magic this is pretty low, but for an Empath he has incredible strength. Raw strength, which means that for the sake of controlling emotion there is no single better tool than him, while a magician or a witch could without doubt do it, it wouldn’t be true feelings it would be conjured and therefore fake, it would simply be magic, while an empath already controls what is there a witch or magician conjures it from nowhere, they craft things from nothing, its distinguishable. If you ever end up in the path of an empath you won’t know why you all of a sudden went into blind rage, you just know you did and that it was yours.” He paused and looked over the mark once more before pulling the shirts down again.

“My point being is that someone has bound him to themselves to manipulate emotions and control people. And that Scott. Is dangerous. Imagine being scared out of your mind but not knowing why, imagine being so angry you go into a rage and murder in cold blood only to later feel normal again. All this while never feeling that tinge of magic that would make you know it was not for real. He can control you like a puppet and you’d think it was your own doing.”

"But  _he's_ not doing that!" Scott exclaims. 

"No, but someone else very well might use him for that." Deaton says and the room is gloomy.

They all sat quiet for a while before Deaton spoke again.

“When you make sure the person using him are dealt with, I highly recommend you leave the binding be. There’s a lot of balance that will go uprooted if he isn’t controlled.”

No one said anything until Deaton left, declaring Stiles was healthy otherwise with the help of Melissa.

“We’re not leaving it on him!” Scott growled, eyes flashing.

Peter scoffed. “Of course not, balance my ass.”

“I will shoot him myself if he tries to keep that binding there!” the sheriff said angrily and so it was decided, they needed to find who did this and lift the binding.


End file.
